


Partners in Crime

by Manager_of_Mischief



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Explosions, F/M, Minor Character Death, Partners in Crime, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Loki (Marvel), Regret, Sexual Content, Smut, Smut and Angst, Witness Protection, assassin!Loki, assassin!reader, love triangle (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manager_of_Mischief/pseuds/Manager_of_Mischief
Summary: You and Loki were the best pair of assassins around until one of your missions went wrong. One witness protection program later, you have an entirely new life, but they say the past never really goes away.





	Partners in Crime

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): nsfw, swearing, violence, angst  
> Created for FirithAriel and songsofgallifrey's [Marvel Smut Writing Challenge](https://fandom-and-feminism.tumblr.com/post/177134882683/writing-challenge).

“My director is ready to kill us all.”

You look over at Tom, your boyfriend, as he put the finishing touches on the morning’s pancakes. The word “kill” was enough to bring the flashbacks.

_It was a dark and stormy night. Batman was around the corner, ready to bat-kick some bat-villain. You were using humor to cope with your trauma again. Basically, it was another day in the life._

_You slipped on your favorite—or least favorite, depending on the situation—six inch heels and seductive emerald green dress. There were no weapons on your body, just a designer purse full of cash. You couldn’t kill a martial arts trained mob boss wearing a bulletproof vest if you tried. That was your advantage. The one rule of this world was trust no one, which meant that everyone assumed that assassins were working alone. Your advantage was that you were not._

_Loki was probably the least trustworthy person you knew, but you could trust him, and he could trust you. Actually, scratch that. You were his, and he was yours. You were one unit, an isolated incident of a symbiotic relationship in the wasteland of a dog-eat-dog world._

_Your thoughts were interrupted when Loki swung your door open and walked in without invitation._

_“Oh, you are not wearing_ that _to seduce the target,” he said, stalking toward you._

_You rolled your eyes. You had had this conversation a million times before—not that you disliked it, or that it ever got old—and the clock was ticking._

_“And why not?” you asked coyly._

_His hands found their way to your hips as he pushed you roughly against the wall._

_“Because this dress,” he explained, raking his eyes over your form, “is for my eyes only. And I will not have a pathetic sleazy mob boss see what is mine.”_

_Anything you were about to say about the practicality of your clothing was silenced when he attacked your lips with his, grabbing your wrists and pinning them against the wall with one hand. He shoved his tongue into your mouth but pulled away the moment you tried to reciprocate, moving to taste your jawbone instead. You knew you needed to leave soon, but he grinded his hips against yours and all complaints were dropped. His free hand roamed your body hungrily, as if he wanted to touch all of you at the same time. He trailed it down your neck and chest to your breasts, then moving to your sides and behind you to cup your ass. You braced against his grip so you could wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. His arousal pressed firmly against your core as you rolled your hips in time to his grinding and you wished that the two thin layers of clothing separating you could just disappear. He left one last nip just behind your ear before pulling away with a growl._

_“Not enough.”_

_You moaned at his words, melting into his arms completely. His face was the picture of frustration as he carried you to the bed with ease. You landed on your back on the mattress and raked your eyes over him. The clothing he was wearing left almost nothing to the imagination, and it certainly didn’t help that you could see the wet spot you had left on his pants just moments ago. You sat up and reached to grab his cock, but he responded by pushing you back down onto the mattress and holding you there with just one hand._

_“Wait your turn,” he said huskily. “I’m not done with you yet.”_

_He looked you over as well, licking his teeth slowly as he crawled up your body to devour your mouth yet again. He made a half hearted attempt to pin your arms back above your head, but you easily wriggled out of it to fist them in his perfectly styled hair. There was something deeply erotic in destroying his perfectly groomed facade._

_This time his hand moved with surgical precision, finding its way under your dress to rip off your panties. He tossed them casually to the side before sliding his hand between your legs again, slowly this time. You attempted to grab his hand, but he immediately pulled it away with a disapproving look. Once he returned to torturing you, you tried a different approach—bucking your hips trying to get him to go faster, but he continued at the same languid pace. Finally, you caved._

_“Loki please just touch me,” you whimpered into his mouth. You could taste the resulting smirk as he shoved two fingers inside you with no warning._

_“So wet, and all mine,” he hissed between kisses._

_The sound that left your throat as you arched into his touch was all but a scream. Motel walls were notoriously thin, but at this point you didn’t care who heard you. Hell, you had already forgotten where you were and why. Your world was comprised of only two components: you and Loki. This time he didn’t stop you when you reached to grab his hand, so you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and fucked yourself on his fingers. He curled them to hit all of the right spots, and it didn’t take long for you to feel the familiar heat building inside you. You threw your head back and repeated his name like a prayer as you chased your release._

_You were close, so close when he abruptly removed his hand and pulled his face away from yours. When you looked up at him he was sucking your juices from his fingers._

_“Loki!” you whined, not caring that you sounded incredibly needy._

_“I need to be inside you,” he growled, and you felt a fresh wave of arousal course through you at just the thought of it. He was reaching for the zipper of his catsuit when your phone started beeping._

_“Fuck!” he yelled, clenching his hands into fists. If looks could kill, your phone would be dead. You had set the alarm to indicate the latest possible time you could leave for your mission, which meant that the two of you needed to clean up and go immediately. He looked down at you and you looked up at him, both of you equally frustrated. As much as you both wanted to continue, there was a job to do._

_“Wear a different dress,” he commanded. There was no room for argument._

_You changed your dress and found yourself a new pair of panties—Loki had insisted that you not replace them until you reminded him that the outfit was for a rendezvous with a “pathetic sleazy mob boss”—then double checked the time and place and started walking toward the door._

_Your exit was interrupted by Loki’s voice._

_“What am I to do with this?” You turned around to see gesturing at the large and very obvious tent in his catsuit pants._

_“I’ll let you pound me into the mattress for hours after this is over,” you replied with a soft smile before heading toward the door again. It took everything in him not to take you right there, mission be damned, but this was the best contract the two of you had ever received and it would be a terrible decision to let it go._

_Once you were outside the door of your motel room, the two of you parted ways. There would usually be a quick make out session involved in this temporary goodbye, but neither of you dared to test the limits of your restraint this time._

_“Don’t die, Loki,” you said as he turned away from you._

_“Don’t die, (Y/N).” It felt like your version of “I love you.”_

_Loki headed up the fire escape to the roof, where he would set up camp with his Barrett M82 sniper rifle. You walked briskly and confidently to the bougie hotel next door, which was supposedly “closed for maintenance.” This was where you would be meeting Ronan, one of the heads of the Kree criminal organization. Your role was simple: get Ronan comfortable, then invite him to room 423, which was directly in the line of sight from your motel. Ronan’s profile was taller and wider than yours, and Loki knew your body far too well to aim for the wrong shadow. One well-placed bullet later, you two would leave with a million dollars and Ronan would be rolled out of his favorite hotel in a body bag on a stretcher._

_Things always went as planned. Well, things always went as planned except this time. See, you were the bat-villain. And Batman—or more likely, Kree minions who had seen the contract for Ronan—had prepared for that night. Once you entered the empty hotel, hips swaying in a hypnotically seductive rhythm, you were greeted by a middle aged man holding a detonator._

_“I’m getting old,” he sighed. “It’s my time to go anyway, my dear young assassin.” Your cover was blown wide open. So was the hotel._

_The next thing you could remember was the muffled sound of sirens in the distance._

If this were a dream flashback, this was the point at which you would have woken up. Because you were already awake, it took Tom’s hand on your shoulder and the strong smell of maple syrup to snap you out of the memory.

“Irene,” he said, shaking you slightly and looking concerned. “Everything ok, love?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Of course, nothing was fine, but only you knew that. You and maybe your witness protection officer, if he was perceptive enough.

_The FBI had taken you into custody once your condition had been stabilized. They started with the simple questions, asking you what you were doing in Ronan’s company and whatnot. You answered with poise, providing an elaborate cover story detailing a very legitimate and legal business dealing with a man you had never suspected. The way the agents pretended to accept your story was almost cruel. It seemed like they were going to let you go up until the last moment, when they brought out their piece de resistance. Messages from a darknet contract killing forum had been traced to your phone, confirming that you had been hired to kill Ronan by an anonymous third party. They offered you a deal: give up who hired you in exchange for witness protection and immunity. You insisted—truthfully this time—that the messages were anonymous, encrypted, sent through multiple proxy servers, and essentially untraceable. You would never forget their response._

_“Life in prison without parole it is. Nice knowing ya.”_

_“Wait!” you shouted as the agent left the room. You hated yourself for what you were about to do, but you couldn’t bear the thought of being locked away forever._

_“I can give you the name of every assassin in the forum.”_

_You spent the rest of the day writing down names next to internet handles. Hawkeye = Clint Barton, BlackWidow = Natasha Romanoff (formerly Natalia Romanova), WinterSoldier = James Buchanan Barnes… the list went on for a while. When the agent returned to the room, only one slot remained unfilled._

_Silvertongue._

_This was your only chance at living again. In fact, this was your first chance at a clean slate—a normal life. You put your pen to the paper._

_Silvertongue = Loki Laufeyson._

_The agent wordlessly took the page and left. You hadn’t cried since your childhood, but you cried then. You couldn’t tear your mind away from Loki. His face flashed before your eyes. He had been the one to teach you how to shoot, to fight, to conceal, to lie, to seduce. Neither of you could place when partnership became a friendship, when your friendship became a relationship, and when your relationship became love. You thought about the way his lips felt against yours, the way your bodies fit together perfectly, the way he called you_ his _. You would always be his, and he would always be yours, no matter how far away you were relocated or what new life you built._

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tom asked from across the table. “You haven’t touched your food, and this is your favorite pancake recipe. We both have to leave for work soon.”

You look up to meet his eyes. You had chosen him because his face reminded you of Loki’s but you had fallen in love with him in time. Tom was the opposite of everything you knew. He was emotional, honest, and trustworthy. He took you dancing on a regular basis and acted the full part of a romantic partner. The flowers in your living room and the delicate gold bracelet on your right wrist were proof of his affections.

“Really, I’m fine… just thinking.” You reassured him with a smile, one that reached your eyes and radiated across your face. This smile had taken years of training to realize, and despite the fact that Tom was an accomplished actor, he could never fake a smile quite like you could.

You finally dug into the pancakes, which were delicious as usual. The two of you ate in comfortable silence until his phone buzzed with an angry text from his director.

“That’s my cue,” he said, patting your hand. He didn’t notice the unintentional pun, but you did and chuckled inwardly.

“Don’t die,” you replied. It was a standard assassin’s goodbye, not that he would know, but old habits die hard.

You were leaving soon too. You had easily found a job in IT considering your significant technical knowledge. Of course, showing the elderly how to properly boot up their computers was a much less exciting job, but it paid well enough and kept your mind off of the past. Before you could grab your keys, you hear a knock on the door. You opened it to find a tall man with sullen eyes.

“FedEx delivery for Irene Portman,” he said. “Please confirm your ID.” You hated using your new fake-but-legitimate ID card, but you handed it over anyway. He returned your card along with a small cardboard box.

You tore open the packaging to reveal a small kevlar box and an envelope. You opened the envelope first. It contained a letter that read:

_(Y/N),_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I had thought you dead for a good part of the past year, so imagine my surprise upon seeing your face in some promo photos for a small production of Hamlet in the middle of nowhere. I do not know what you did to buy your way into witness protection, but whatever it was, it must have been worth it because you are safe now._

_I am writing to you out of pure selfishness. I do not expect you do respond or to act, especially when it was me who brought you into this mess in the first place. This is just my way of seeking closure for everything that happened. If you do not wish to be reminded of ~~our~~ my world, then do not read any further._

_I was fortunate enough to receive the sum of money from Ronan’s contract just as the disappearances began, which is how I managed to find asylum here in China (the number of militarily stable non-extradition countries is alarmingly small). I suppose this is as close as it gets to both of us having clean slate. My current address is written in our code on the inside of the envelope containing this letter, as is the number to my current burner phone._

_If you haven’t already, open the box. What lies inside is yours, no matter what you do or where you end up. They say everyone has a bullet with their name on it, but you now have the distinct advantage of owning yours. I am sorry for dragging you into my world, for almost costing you your life. I am sorry for still wanting you now. I am sorry for leaving you my address; I couldn’t help myself. I am sorry for loving you._

_Don’t die,  
Loki_

You wiped away the tears brimming in your eyes and opened the box to find an unused bullet engraved with your name. He had made every effort to tell you not to let this change anything, but it changed everything. You were faced with a choice: continue your quiet life with Tom or uproot your entire existence to be with Loki.

Finally, you came to a decision. You pulled out your phone and typed out a single text to the number written on the inside of the envelope.

_Loki, I’m coming for you._

He replied with a link to a one-way plane ticket to Hong Kong, and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he got the pun.


End file.
